


Trust

by hafren



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hafren/pseuds/hafren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After "Voices from the Past", Blake is troubled with dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

There was a dog, a lithe, powerful hound. It came to him and buried its wet nose in his hand. Its eyes were dark, liquid and loving. Then he looked again, and it was a wolf. He had never seen a dog or a wolf, but he recognised both, which was how some part of him knew he was dreaming again.

The wolf was going to kill him. Or it had already killed someone. There was blood on its mouth, on the floor, everywhere. Its eyes were pale gold and they burned, fixing him with an intense gaze.

He had a weapon. Not a gun. What then? The feel in his hand…a knife... no, a sword. He was terrified of the creature, but there were other feelings too. Anger, grief, a searing hate. He felt the sword-point enter its throat, felt it fall limp and die.

Then he looked again, and it was a child.

***

He woke shouting, soaked in sweat. Arms were trying to hold him down, Vila's and Jenna's. He broke free of them. A hand took his, and he clasped it convulsively. "It was a dream, Blake, just another dream," Vila said anxiously. "You're awake now."

"Avon, get over here and help." Jenna's voice sounded strained. "I can't hold him."

"Then don't try. He'll calm down soon enough." The aloof voice cleared his mind as the worried, soothing ones had not. He relaxed his grip, and Vila breathed out in relief, flexing his crushed fingers.

"I'm sorry, Vila. I didn't mean to hurt you." He looked around, past Jenna and Vila, one each side of his bed. Cally was a little further off and Avon at the far side of the room, leaning in the doorway, watching him. "Sorry. I'll be all right now."

"I doubt that." Cally sounded concerned, but oddly unsympathetic. "I told you at the time, you should have taken a break and completed the therapy Orac prescribed. Freedom City and Docholli could both have waited until your mind was clear."

"But that's just it, we don't know that. Docholli's the only lead we've got. Anything could happen while we waste time on holiday. I came too late for Provine; I'm not missing this one."

"Please yourself." She walked out, brushing past Avon. He paused, his eyes fixed on Blake, for a moment, then followed her.

Blake looked up at Jenna, puzzled. "Have I annoyed them somehow?"

"Well," she said, "you did make it fairly clear you suspected them of plotting against you. Me too – oh no, I was some sort of dupe, wasn't I?"

"But that wasn't me! I mean, I wasn't in control of my mind at the time, surely they know that? You don't hold it against me, do you?"

"No," she admitted, "but then I was in your mind for a bit. They weren't. And knowing that you didn't mean it doesn't change the fact that it happened."

He nodded. "I'll have a word with them. Go back to bed now, I'll be all right." He glanced at Vila and saw he was still nursing his hand. "Vila, go to the med bay and get that sorted."

Vila hesitated. "Y'know, maybe you should do what Cally said and finish the therapy. Might stop you having these dreams." As he rose to go, he brushed the bruised hand against the bed and winced. Blake felt something twist inside him.

"No," he said, "I can't do that."

***

Next work period, he went looking for Cally and found her checking the teleport bracelets.

"Look," he said, "I'm sorry about how I behaved when I was – when my mind was being controlled. You must know I never would have said or thought such things otherwise?"

Her face softened slightly; she wasn't good at holding grudges. "Yes, Blake, but that is why you should finish the therapy. Until you do, how do you, or any of us, know what they may have left in your mind, or whether you could be controlled in that way again?"

He toyed with one of the bracelets, not looking at her. She put a hand on his arm. "I know it hurt, but-"

He shook his head. "It isn't that." She stayed quiet, and he said into the silence, "What if I find things I don't want to know?"

"Things they did to you?"

"No," he said miserably. "Things I might have done. In the dream, sometimes, there's a child. Cally, you know what I was accused of. Falsely, as far as I know, but then my memory isn't reliable, is it? And I'm not sure I want it to be. I'd hate to think I was.... that I could have hurt someone harmless."

"I'm no expert," she said slowly, "but I don't think dreams work like that. They aren't so literal; they're more like images, metaphors for things that worry you. What else was in it?"

"A wolf. Well, it started out as a dog but it turned into a wolf."

"A fairytale creature? Maybe when you were little, someone told you a legend that frightened you. And it's come back now because you're feeling stressed. You should ask Vila, he's got a headful of stories from his grandmother, and frankly, having heard some of them, I'm amazed any of your people reach adulthood untraumatised."

***

He passed Avon in the corridor and called him back.

"Avon, I'm sorry about what happened. The way that thing made me act towards you."

Avon raised an eyebrow. "Arrogantly and with paranoid mistrust? I can't say I noticed anything out of the ordinary."

Blake felt himself flush. "That's not fair."

The dark eyes raked his face sardonically. "Really? You don't mistrust me?"

"No. But could you blame me if I did? When you keep opposing me, threatening to go your own way, waiting to take over the ship? It's hardly surprising if I get a bit cautious now and then. But I'm sorry if it hurts you." The words were not out of his mouth before he knew he'd said the wrong thing. Avon turned, without speaking, and walked off.

***

The child stood smiling, arms outstretched to him, a golden-haired boy covered in blood. He started towards him to help, but the wolf stood between them. He caught his breath, afraid for the boy, until he realised that the wolf was not threatening the child but defending it. When he woke, his throat was raw with screaming.

 

***

Having got what he wanted in Freedom City, Blake was in a reasonably good mood, until he noticed the stray casino chip lying on the deck. He flung open Avon's cabin door without knocking and walked in. Ignoring Avon's look of affronted surprise, he threw the chip down on the desk, and Avon stopped looking surprised and said "Ah".

"Is that all you've got to say? _Ah?_ You let Vila go down there, after I'd specifically told him not to – I'll see him later."

The watchful gaze flickered momentarily and Avon said "Leave him out of it. I went down. I got bored up here."

Blake kept his hand at his side with an effort. "Travis was there. And Servalan. You know how important that mission was. How could you be disloyal enough to endanger us all like that?"

"Why not?" Avon snapped, flippant tones changing to bitter in an instant. "As long as I have the name, I may as well deserve it."

***

One reason Blake had managed to control his temper was that he couldn't shout; his vocal cords were still feeling torn. He sighed; he couldn't spend another night like that. He was still determined to go through no more therapy, but maybe Cally's other suggestion made sense… He went off to find Vila.

"Wolf stories? Yeah, my nan had loads of them. Redcap of course, that's the one where the wolf dresses up as the kid's granny. _What big teeth you have, Grandmother. All the better to eat you with, my dear.._

Blake shook his head. "Doesn't ring any bells. Anyway I didn't think wolves could talk. Any others?"

Vila thought. "Well, there's one where the wolf eats seven little kids" – he saw Blake's look of horror and clarified, "Baby goats. He pretends he's their mum to get into the house, but he gets killed and they don't, so it ends up all right. It always does; that's what I liked about fairy tales. What do you want to know for, anyway?"

"The dreams I've been having. There's a wolf in them, and a dog, and… a child. Cally thought it might be some story I heard long ago."

"Mm. Can't think of it, offhand. Maybe it isn't anything in your past. My nan wouldn't have thought so. She reckoned dreams were omens, warnings about what might happen to you."

Blake snorted impatiently. "I'm hardly likely to get attacked by an extinct creature, am I?"

"Nah, that'll be symbolic of something. Someone you're afraid of, maybe, I dunno. She used to be able to reel off all the meanings, but I can't recall many of them." He grinned. "Why don't you try having a drink or two before you go to sleep? Relax you a bit, that would. It always works for me."

***

The hound ran at his side, hunting with him. It was slim and grey, with deep eyes that looked trustingly up into his. He smiled back at it, relishing its strength and beauty, his closeness to it, the way they moved together. He wondered how he was able to match its pace, and at once he knew he was dreaming again, but was helpless to stop.

Don't look away, he thought, then it can't turn into a wolf. He kept his eyes fixed on it, but his smile had gone and the creature, sensing something amiss, leapt up, pawing at his chest. He sprang back, suddenly afraid, and its eyes turned from dark to gold. He felt its teeth at his throat and thought _I made that happen_.

***

"And where the hell were you?"

Blake had made a point of leaving Avon and Cally the ship, while the rest of them went down to Goth. A gesture of trust. As much as anything, he was angry that it had gone wrong, that the first thing he said when he got back had to be an accusation.

And yet… grudgingly, he could see why Avon had wanted to hare off in pursuit of Travis. He could see himself doing it – in fact, it was far more in character for him. Avon didn't go looking for trouble, normally. "We got Travis for you" – the "for you" had touched him, even if he didn't admit it at the time. As had the half-resentful, half-guilty expression. Maybe that was why he had repeated the act of trust. "If I'm not back in six hours, come down."

He thought about it, waiting in the dungeons of Goth. Avon had come down for him on Exbar, and wearing the same look.

Blake knew he was always too quick to worry when it came to the teleport. Part of him always harked back to those interminable moments on Cygnus Alpha, when he knew Avon was wondering whether or not to bring him up. His stomach still clenched at the memory.

And yet.... and yet, since then it had never happened, unless for a damn good reason. Like having to get out of range to avoid pursuit ships – and that time, Blake had assumed the worst and exploded in anger at him before finding out the truth. As a matter of fact, now he came to think about it, whatever Avon said, he had never not been there when he was needed, not since that first time, until his recent escapade.

Back on the ship, when Avon said "Another few seconds and I would have left you," Blake recalled a dozen such remarks and had to hide a smile.

***

The room was covered in blood. In the middle was an upturned cradle, but no child. The creature stood, not attacking, just looking at him. He stabbed it, over and over, until it was still. Into the silence seeped a small cry; it was coming from beneath the cradle, and when he looked closer he saw in its shadow a heap of grey fur, matted with blood, its golden eyes glazed. The hound, a lump of dead meat on his sword, would not come loose; he had to set his foot on it to free it from the blade.

He sat up in bed, knowing at last what he had dreamed.

***

Star One was a long way off; they did not have to decide if they were actually going there yet. He could put off the argument which he had no doubt would eventually be needed. So, while they were still on speaking terms, he went to reassure Cally. She was with Vila, whom she had roped into doing an inventory of the medical supplies.

"I've stopped having the dreams, you two. I know what they were about now. You were right, Cally; it was a story, though I don't recall who told me it."

"A fairy tale? Which one?"

"I don't know what the people were called. But some prince has a young son, and a favourite hunting dog. One day he can't find the hound, so he goes hunting without it. When he comes back, he goes into the child's room and finds the cradle overturned, blood everywhere, the dog in the middle of it, and no sign of the child."

She gasped softly. "The stories you people tell your children... The dog had killed the child?"

"That's what he thinks, so he stabs it. Then there's a cry from under the cradle; he turns it over and there's the child unhurt. And in the shadows, where he didn't see it at first, there's a dead wolf."

Vila shuddered. "My nan never told me that one, thanks be. Poor dog – poor man. And no happy ending."

"That's gruesome," Cally agreed, "no wonder it came back to haunt you. I wonder how it got mixed up with – well, the other things in your head."

"I don't think it was. I think maybe Vila's grandmother was right about dreams. It was a warning about trust, as I see it. The man went by appearances and not by what he knew, and that's what I've been doing. I have to stop expecting to be betrayed at every turn and learn to trust my friends more. If the prince had done that, it would have been all right."

He was humming a tune as he strolled off.

Cally smiled at Vila. "Well, he looks a lot better. Taking your view of it seems to have helped him, even if he does prefer superstition to science."

Vila said nothing. "What's wrong," she asked teasingly, "hasn't he interpreted the omens right?"

"I don't know," he said quietly, "but trusting his friends didn't do the dog much good, did it?"


End file.
